


e x o s o m a t i c

by arsenouselation



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Bottom Do Kyungsoo | D.O, M/M, Sex Pollen, Top Park Chanyeol, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 10:55:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11850111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arsenouselation/pseuds/arsenouselation
Summary: All downhill from here.





	e x o s o m a t i c

**Author's Note:**

> This work is unedited and may be subject to revision. Heed the tags.

 

 

 

 

 

He will only remember it in flashes.

Like a dislocated memory marring his soul. A disjointed film, a hundred images flickering, bursting in vivid color and sensory input. The delirious fever, the feel of pale skin under his hands, in between his teeth. The salt of tears on his tongue--

He will only remember it in flashes, and what he remembers he will never forget.

 

* * *

 

The lights of the studio shine bright against his eyelids. Chanyeol tips his head back to gulp down the lukewarm water he fished from his bag.

(In hindsight, he should have known better. Didn't the manager-hyung always say to check if the bottle is really theirs? Or at the least, sealed?)

Beside him, Yixing-hyung leans against the mirrored wall, his chest heaving with exertion. It's just the two of them today, everyone else have other schedules. They have been practising the new choreography for almost three hours now, and Chanyeol still struggles with the chorus part.

He goes to offer Yixing his water bottle when he notices the yellow note stuck on the bottom of the bottle. The handwriting is simple, unassuming.

_Hope this helps, Chanyeollie._

* * *

 

It begins with shortness of breath.

Not even fifteen minutes after their last break and Chanyeol is already bent over, clutching his knees. His fingers feel tingly.

"Maybe that's enough for today, Chanyeol-ah," Yixing's voice sounds distant, even if he's standing close to Chanyeol.

He can only nod. The tingles have climbed up to his arms and are now settling onto his shoulders.

"Chanyeol?"

When Chanyeol looks up to his hyung, his vision kilters off to the side. His ears start to ring. Yixing looks worried now. His hand reaches out to Chanyeol's shoulder.

Chanyeol jerks away immediately; the touch _burns_.

His head spins. The sweat dripping down his back feels so so cold.

"Yeollie. Are you okay?"

Avoiding his hyung's concerned gaze, Chanyeol focuses on Yixing's mouth. It's forming words but he can't hear.

Then, his vision goes black.

 

* * *

 

 

The rumble of the van brings him back to consciousness.

Chanyeol is lying on his side, face pressed to the leather of the seat. His stomach hurts. Where is Yixing-hyung? He wants to ask.

"Yixing is still in the studio," the manager-hyung's voice is garbled, like he's underwater. Chanyeol closes his eyes.

 

* * *

 

His head swims with the pain. He feels too hot all over, his lungs too big for his chest.

Once he’s inside their shared room, he does not bother turning on the lights. Chanyeol chucks his sweat-soaked shirt off and falls on the nearest bed. The smell of the linen is familiar; citrusy. Only one person uses that particular body wash.

Kyungsoo.

This is Kyungsoo’s bed.

Chanyeol groans when a wave of heat courses through him. _Fuck,_ what is even happening?

Curling in on himself, he buries his face in the pillow and sleeps.

 

* * *

 

The door opening jolts him awake. Everything hurts now; he feels like he's on fire. His heart is trying to tear itself out of his chest.

"Yeol?" The voice is low, tentative. Kyungsoo.

"Are you okay?" He sounds worried. The bed dips as Kyungsoo sits on the bed. He smells of citrus and sweat.

Chanyeol's stomach churns.

He musters the strength to say, "Stomach hurts…"

Kyungsoo's tone turns reproving, "What did you eat this time?"

A hand touches his forehead, the weight of it cool and sweet on his skin. Chanyeol's eyes flutter close, heartbeat a furious drum; it feels good.

"You have a fever," mutters Kyungsoo, moving to get up from the bed.

Unthinking, Chanyeol reaches out and grabs Kyungsoo's hand. Kyungsoo is cool as stone, is a comfort from the fire under his skin. He presses the hand to his cheek. _Please don't leave me._

"What are you doing?"

It must have been the fever that compels him to do it. His body moves on its own, his brain wading in the white noise of pain. He moves his head --slowly, slowly -- to press his mouth against Kyungsoo's palm.

Chanyeol doesn't know what he's doing. It is the strangest sensation: like he's disconnected from his self, yet he feels each tiny pinprick of pain, the brittle bone of Kyungsoo, the softness.

Instantly, Kyungsoo recoils, pulling his arm back. But Chanyeol retains his grip, sighing as he muzzles the small wrist.

"Chanyeol," Kyungsoo threatens, trying to dislodge his hand. "What is wrong with you?"

The cool skin feels good against Chanyeol's mouth. A sigh escapes him. It feels really, _really_ _good_. Chanyeol trails his mouth down to his palm again, the pale skin a cool stream in the lake of fire. _Oh god. Oh god. What am I doing?_ Chanyeol doesn't stop--he cannot stop--until the pads of Kyungsoo's fingers are against his lips. His entire being tingles with the contact.

Kyungsoo jerks his arm harder. "Stop this Yeol. What are you doing?"

The urgency in his voice only pushes Chanyeol. Kyungsoo's other hand comes up to push at Chanyeol's forehead, but Chanyeol grabs his wrist and pulls it away roughly.

"What--?" The protest dies in Kyungsoo's mouth when he looks at Chanyeol. For a suspended moment, they stay frozen like that.

Then, slowly, without breaking eye-contact, Chanyeol opens his mouth and slips two of Kyungsoo's digits inside. The pads presses against his tongue, pushes the fever back, soothes the angry tempo in his chest. Kyungsoo tracks the movements, stunned. A morbid glee blooms inside Chanyeol's chest. _Are you seeing me now, Kyungsoo?_

Kyungsoo flinches at the sound, regains traction on the whole situation and uses his full strength to push Chanyeol away.

"The fuck, Yeol," he growls. Chanyeol holds on to his wrists, steadfast. 

He has always been stronger than Kyungsoo, even if he never retaliates when the younger hits him. He never had reason to. But now…

A heady rush fills his chest. Chanyeol pulls Kyungsoo in, crashes their mouths together. It is like taking a long, long awaited drink.

He uses the momentum to turn them both over, straddling Kyungsoo so he could not move anywhere. Chanyeol deepens the kiss, blind and deaf to everything else, lost in the pleasure of tasting Kyungsoo. He doesn't even know if Kyungsoo is struggling because he wants to stop or because it feels good the same way it does for Chanyeol.

"Kyungsoo," he finds himself saying, "Kyungsoo."

Chanyeol takes and takes. Takes and takes. Takes and takes until he drowns into the blackness of pleasure.

 

* * *

 

When he resurfaces, he finds himself still on top of Kyungsoo, grinding against him, holding the small wrists down on either side of Kyungsoo's head. Chanyeol pulls away slightly, looks down at the smaller man trapped beneath him.

Kyungsoo's polo shirt is rumpled, half torn, some its buttons missing. There are red marks on the pale skin, on his neck, his shoulders, his chest. Kyungsoo's mouth shines red, cheeks flushed. He's not even struggling against Chanyeol (anymore). Instead, his eyes stare wide and unblinking at Chanyeol. The sight of him twists something deep in Chanyeol's gut.

"This isn't you, Yeol. Stop."

He looks like he's about to cry. Chanyeol jerks at the thought, at the violence he's caused. He dips forward, nibbles at Kyungsoo's full bottom lip. Relishes the wet gasps coming from Kyungsoo, lets them fill his entire being with mindless delight.

Chanyeol rocks forward, pushing his tongue in, hands tearing Kyungsoo's shirt completely open and delving in. His hand roam, soaking in the smoothness of Kyungsoo's skin, mapping out the planes of his body. When his fingers reach the tops of Kyungsoo's trousers, Kyungsoo goes still.

As if to calm him down, Chanyeol nuzzles Kyungsoo's jaw, inhaling deeply. He does not miss the hitch in the younger man's throat.

"So long," Chanyeol is uncertain where the words are coming from, "I've waited so _long._ "

His hands move blindly, unzipping Kyungsoo's pants. Kyungsoo latches onto Chanyeol's wrists, trying to stop him. Chanyeol notes that his hands are shaking. It only urges him on.

"No," Kyungsoo says, voice trembling, "Whatever this is, Yeol, this is not you. Please stop."

_I'm so sorry, Soo._

"I can't," Chanyeol gasps, "I can't."

In one rough movement, he pulls Kyungsoo's pants off, taking along his briefs. For a moment, Chanyeol has forgotten how to breathe. He drinks in the sight before him, the endless expanse of milky white skin, the jut of hipbones, the hard cock.

The trance is broken by Kyungsoo's fist crashing against his shoulder. Chanyeol reels back, then surges forward, pushing down Kyungsoo into the bed by his arms. Kyungsoo fights with renewed strength, and some dark spot in Chanyeol relishes at this, that for all Kyungsoo's power, he is no match for Chanyeol. He sacrifices a few seconds to let go of Kyungsoo's arms, letting himself get pummeled so he can wrench Kyungsoo's legs apart. Chanyeol settles in between them and regains his hold on Kyungsoo's arms.

Kyungsoo bucks against him, accidentally rubbing their cocks together. The sensation zaps down his spine. Chanyeol grinds against Kyungsoo harder. 

Kyungsoo palms press hard against Chanyeol's shoulders, trying to push him away.

Chanyeol growls, "Don't make me tie you up."

Kyungsoo stops fighting, and lets Chanyeol's weight settle heavily on him. As reward, Chanyeol kisses his jaw, rests his cheek against Kyungsoo's. For a moment, everything seems to calm down, both of them quiet, unmoving.


End file.
